The Missing Children
by Aquamarine1212
Summary: When Megan's daughter goes missing, she ends up meeting a man named Sherlock Holmes. She must rely on his help if she ever wants to find her daughter June. But there could be something darker behind the kidnapping. When children all over the city begin to disappear, Megan and Sherlock realize that if they don't catch the kidnapper soon, it could mean the death of thousands of kids.
1. Chapter I

**I do not own BBC's Sherlock Holmes, or any Sherlock Holmes.**

"Have you heard about that detective?"

"You mean Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yes, that would be him."

"I've heard lots about him. He thinks he's so great, but I heard it's all just a silly act."

I pushed a stray strand of brown hair behind my ear and absentmindedly fiddled with my tie. As I walked down the streets of London next to my best friend, Courtney, I mentally cursed whoever had invented pencil skirts. They were uncomfortable, hard to walk in, very tight, and unfortunately I was wearing one. I gently touched the bun of hair on my head to make sure it was still neat. Courtney was quick to notice this and immediately commented.

"You look great Megan. Don't worry about it!" she said with a kind smile.

"Easy for you to say," I snorted, "You always look great."

"Nonsense," she said, "I look horrible in the mornings."

"Tell that to your flock of men," I said, flashing a grin at her.

"I don't have a flock of men!" she said, her face flushing deep red.

"Please, you practically have a mob of boys following you wherever you go," I said, rolling my eyes. Courtney looked down at herself, taking in her jean shorts and her red tank top.

"It's the tank top," she quickly concluded, "I heard somewhere that the color red attracts men."

"You are ridiculous!" I said, pushing her teasingly. She laughed as we stopped at a street crossing and waited for the sign to flash green. My light mood quickly sunk as I once again remembered my plans for the day. Courtney, who had always been good at reading people's emotions, noticed the change.

"Megan, don't sweat it. You'll go to work, you'll get lots done, and it'll be a great day at the office!" she said with a smile.

"That's not what I'm worried about," I sighed.

"It's the hospital visit then," Courtney said, her smile disappearing, "Hey, it'll be fine. I'm sure that the doctors have made lots of progress."

"My poor baby," I said, putting my face in my hands, "No child should ever have to go through an amputation."

"I'm sure that June is doing great. She's a brave girl; I know that she'll make it through," Courtney said, reassuring me by putting her hand on my shoulder.

"I still don't understand what happened. I just came home and she had a horrible wound on her leg. She refused to tell me how she had gotten it," I said, tears threatening to spill out of my eyes, "Why would she hide something like that from her own mother?"

"I'm sure she'll tell you in good time," Courtney said. The crossing light suddenly flashed green and I was swept across the street with a large crowd of people bustling to work. Courtney said a quick goodbye before she parted from the crowd and pushed her way into the tattoo parlor where she worked. I sighed and continued to walk, my feet getting sore from the high heels I was wearing.

_Stupid business suit,_ I thought angrily to myself, _It just makes walking uncomfortable._

"Hey Megan!"

A short red-head bumped into me before she looked up, her green eyes bright and full of excitement. Her black hoodie was half unzipped, revealing a hot pink shirt underneath, and she wore torn up jeans and tall black boots. If I didn't know her better I'd say she was going for a gothic look, but Ginger was just the opposite of gothic. Bright and funny, she was always bouncing around, bringing smiles to everyone's faces.

"Hey Ginger. I thought you hated the color pink," I commented as we continued to walk. She hopped forwards a bit, trying to keep up with me.

"I do. But I this is the last clean shirt I have. I really need to do my laundry," she said, frowning a bit before her bright smile returned.

"So, how's June?" Ginger asked, "Is her leg - well, more like absence of a leg - feeling any better?

"I'm not sure. I'm going to visit her today," I said, swallowing a lump in my throat.

"Good good," Ginger said, "Say hello to her for me, will you?"

"I will," I said, taking a deep breath and trying not to concentrate too hard on my churning emotions. Ginger suddenly stopped, her eyes wide.

"That doesn't look good," she said, cocking her head a bit. Blaring sirens filled the air and I looked to my right to see three police cars and two ambulances racing down the road. The other cars quickly pulled to the side as they sped down the street, sirens wailing and lights flashing. They turned a corner sharply, leaving skid marks on the tar.

"Wonder where they're going," Ginger said curiously. I froze, my eyes getting wide as I came to the sudden realization.

"Oh my God, they're headed for the hospital!" I yelled. I quickly ditched my purse on Ginger and began to race down the road, following the sound of sirens.

"Hey, wait up!" Ginger began to propel herself forward, working twice as hard as me to make up for her lack of height. I breathed heavily and my breaths were growing shaky and fast. I stumbled , the pencil skirt making it hard to run, and I quickly muttered a few swear words under my breath. Of course I had to be wearing a pencil skirt.

I whipped around the corner, panting from the mad dash I had taken down the sidewalk, and stared at the hospital in horror. Yellow police tape covered up the door and ambulances were crowded around the building. Police officers were grabbing guns and racing inside as they ducked under the police tape , and a tall man wearing a trench coat was standing next to the police chief. I ran through the gathering crowd of onlookers and passed a few stray police officers.

"Hey!" A younger looking man in a police officer suit grabbed my wrist, "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to keep a distance from the hospital and join the onlookers-"

"My daughter is in there!" I screamed, tears running down my cheeks, "You have to let me through, please! For heaven's sake, my daughter needs me-"

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to keep your distance," the police officer said firmly. I pulled his hand up to my face and bit his fingers. He yelped as my teeth sunk into his flesh and quickly let go, allowing me to make a break for it. I raced towards the hospital, my makeup a complete disaster from the tears streaking my cheeks as I headed for the hospital doors. I could hear the shouts of several police officers behind me, but I continued to run, not caring.

That's about when I ran into a tall figure wearing a black trench coat. Yelping with surprise, I ran into him, smacking his chest with my face before I fell backwards onto the ground. He bent over me, his face etched with disapproval. A few police officers ran up and grabbed my arms. I began to kick furiously, struggling to break free. The man in the trench coat had slightly curly brown hair, high cheekbones, and wore a blue scarf.

"Who is this idiot?" he said, almost sounding bored. Before one of the police officers could answer, I replied.

"I could ask you the same question," I snapped.

"Temper, temper," he said disapprovingly, "I guess I'll go first then, although I'm surprised you don't know who I am." He leaned over, bringing his face close to mine.

"I am Sherlock Holmes."


	2. Chapter II

**I do not own BBC's Sherlock Holmes, or any Sherlock Holmes.**

"Now then, as I was asking, who are you?" Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Please, my name is Megan Moore, and you have to let me in!" I pleaded, "My daughter June is in there!"

"Hmm, you obviously don't know what's going on here, do you?" Sherlock said, "I doubt you'll find your daughter in that hospital, along with fourteen other young patients."

"What?" I said, dumbfounded. _Not here? _

"It would take too long to explain to someone like you," Sherlock said dismissively, "Anyways, there are plenty of police officers around here you can ask."

"What do you mean 'someone like me'?" I said, frowning angrily.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, walking into the hospital. The police officers who were holding my arms began to herd me back towards the crowd.

"No, wait!" I said, struggling against their tight grasp, "Where is my daughter?!" I could see the intrigued looks of a few people in the crowd, and a couple of photographers raised their cameras, preparing to take a shot of me. No way, I wasn't having any photographs taken of me in this state! My makeup smeared from tears, my hair a complete disaster; I could almost picture the subtitle under the picture reading "Traumatized mother is kicked out of the crime scene".

"I'm not giving up that easily!" I said through gritted teeth. I twisted my arm backwards swiftly, catching one of the police officers by surprise and managing to break free of his iron grip. I grabbed one of my fancy, designer high heels off my foot and threw it at him, hitting him squarely in the face. He yelped as the heel dug into his cheek and a small trickle of blood started to run down his face. I twisted around and quickly kicked the other officer's ankle as hard as I could. He yelled in pain, loosening his grip, and I wrenched away, running back towards the hospital.

"Stop her!" I heard someone yell behind me. I ran faster, abandoning my other shoe and running barefoot across the parking lot. I could hear excited chatter behind me and prayed that none of the reporters would get a good shot of me.

I reached the double doors and yanked one open, then dashed inside. The sterile white hallways were filled with police officers dressed in blue suits. They all turned to look at me in surprise. I ran into the conveniently open elevator, not giving them any time to react to my sudden appearance, and smashed several of the floor keys.

"Hey! You aren't allowed to-" The voice of one of the officers was cut off as the doors closed with a ding and soothing music began to play in the small box. I sighed, sinking down onto the elevator floor.

"What the heck am I doing?" I muttered to myself. I glanced up at the floor keys. The numbers three, four and five were lit up. It was practically a miracle. My daughter's room was on floor three. Out of the ten hospital floors, I just happened to press the one my daughter was on. I took it as a good sign and allowed myself to relax a bit. _What did Sherlock mean when he said he doubted June would be in here? Who on earth would kidnap hospitalized children?_

There was a peaceful ding as the elevator lurched to a halt and the doors slid open, revealing a dark and empty hallway. I stepped out into it, feeling the cold tile beneath my bare feet. The motion sensor light flickered on as I started to walk down the hallway. The elevator closed once again and I was left alone in the silent hallway. I counted off the rooms as I walked on_. One...two…three..._There was the click of footsteps behind me and I stopped dead in my tracks.

_Who the heck is that?_

Immediately I turned around, my eyes darting around, looking for the person following me.

There was nobody there.

I glanced around nervously. I knew I had heard someone. I knew it. But my eyes weren't lying, and I couldn't hear the footsteps anymore. I waited a few more seconds before I turned around, still tense, and started walking down the hallway again. _Four…five…six…_Suddenly the footsteps started up again, this time more brisk and quick. I whipped around, and caught a sliver of a shadow move in the corner of my eye before there was emptiness again.

"Who's there?" I asked, groping for the pepper spray I always kept in my handbag but realizing I had ditched it on Ginger. _Seriously? Of course the one time I actually need it I don't have it. _There was silence.

"Seriously, you're freaking me out! Whoever you are, stop it!" I said, raising my fists semi-threateningly. I stood there for a half a minute, and there was still no response. Finally I turned around again very slowly and froze, waiting for the footsteps to begin again. There was nothing.

Taking a deep breath, I walked forwards again. _Let's see, where was I? Right. Seven…eight…nine!_ I pushed open the door and quickly slammed it behind me, breathing hard. Glancing around the room, it was in shambles. I picked up a stuffed bear I had brought June just a week ago. It was slashed apart, stuffing falling out of it. Taking in a quick breath, I held my hand up to my mouth and tried to hold back tears. I dropped it onto the floor and rushed over to the bedside. The blanket was tossed onto the floor. I began to search around the room for some sort of sign of what had happened here. The window was totally decimated. There were glass shards all over the floor around it and I was carefully not to step on any.

Suddenly a scrap of paper on the windowsill caught my eye. I picked it up and quickly poured over the text written there.

_To Whomever It Concerns,_

_If you ever want to see your children again, you will not search for me._

The letter was short, simple and to the point. Obviously whoever this was not one for clever meanings and games. They were serious, deadly and had little emotion. I held the note in my trembling fingers and breathed in and out quickly.

Suddenly I heard the door open behind me, but before I could turn around something had been thrown at my head. I collapsed on the floor, and the last thing I saw before I became unconscious was a blurry man heading towards me with a knife in his hand.


	3. Chapter III

**I do not own Sherlock Holmes.**

I groaned. My head was throbbing with pain and I could feel myself being jolted up and down in somebody's arms. The calf of my left leg was burning with pain. Slowly I was waking up from the concussion. _I'm not dead?_

"You just can't give anyone a straight answer, can you?" A very irritated man spoke. Judging by where his voice was coming from, he was the one holding me. I could feel his hands carrying me bridal style; one underneath my knees to hold up my legs and one on my upper back. My right arm had been draped across his shoulder and my face was so close to his chest I could smell his cologne.

"You should know by now that the answer to that is no, I can't." Another man spoke. Something about his voice bothered me. It was familiar, but I couldn't place a name to it. "People need to think more. They're too used to just receiving answers instead of figuring things out on their own."

"Honestly, you act like you're superior to everyone," the first man said.

"That's because I am."

The man carrying me shifted his arms a bit, causing the injured leg to move. The pain intensified immediately, catching me off guard. I let out a gasp of pain and my eyes flew open. Above me was a middle-aged man with short gray hair and blue-gray eyes. His face was set in a frown and he wore a tan jumper. He glanced down at me.

"She's awake," he said, turning to someone on his left that I couldn't see. Just then the fact that a man who I **did not know** was **carrying me **sunk it. I could feel my face warm up and my heartbeat quicken. The man looked back down at me.

"Just hold still, ok?" he said, his frown lessening a bit, "And whatever you do, don't move your left leg."

"Why?" I asked, my voice quiet and still full of embarrassment.

"You got a knife stuck into your leg," he said, "But you're actually quite lucky. He was aiming for your chest." I choked on my saliva in shock. Someone tried to _kill me_? Suddenly a dark-skinned female paramedic appeared next to him. Her hair was black and her eyes sparkled with laughter. Large hoop earrings dangled from her ears, and I vaguely wondered if paramedics were allowed to wear dangling jewelry or if she wasn't following the rules.

"We've got a stretcher laid out," she said, "You can put her down there."

"Thank you," the man said.

The paramedic smiled at me kindly. "You're lucky he found you," she said, nodding to the gray-haired man, "He's a former army medic." I turned to look at him as I was gently laid down on the stretcher.

"Thank you Mr..." I trailed off, suddenly realizing I had no idea what my rescuers name was.

"Watson," he said, smiling a bit, "My name is John Watson."

"Well then, thank you ," I said, breathing out, "I had no idea there was a psychopath in there-"

"You know, none of this would have happened if you had stayed out of the hospital in the first place," Sherlock suddenly appeared in my line of vision, his eyebrows raised skeptically as if saying 'I told you so'.

"Oh God, you again," I sighed.

"You're one to talk Sherlock, always throwing yourself into danger," John replied.

"That's because I can get myself out of it," Sherlock said, "She, obviously, cannot."

"Well, maybe if you would have just let me into the hospital, I would have been with someone who could have helped me," I snapped back at him.

"You didn't need to go into the hospital. I told you that your daughter was not in the building. Did you need to see it for yourself?" Sherlock asked.

"I didn't know if I could trust you," I argued.

"So then, you have trust issues?" Sherlock questioned.

"I don't have trust issues!" I stormed, "You weren't very _friendly_, so you can't expect me to trust you." Sherlock suddenly smiled.

"You almost put up arguments as good as Watson's," Sherlock laughed, "Perhaps you aren't totally dull." I clenched my fists. _What a stuck-up, self confident, brat!_ I thought angrily to myself. Watson furrowed his eyebrows, and shot Sherlock a semi-angry, semi-annoyed look.

"You are just...infuriating!" I exclaimed angrily, "You think you're so smart-"

"Because I am," Sherlock interrupted, "For instance, I can tell that you work as secretary at London Publishing. You live in an apartment, own at least 2 cats, and let's see, you had a bagel for breakfast this morning, most likely with peanut butter and heavily creamed coffee. Would you like me to continue?"

"No," I muttered.

"Are we done here then?" Sherlock said, clapping his hands together, "Good." He turned around, motioning for Watson to follow him. John cast me an apologetic glance before he trotted off after Sherlock, like a loyal dog following its master. The girl paramedic lifted up the front end of the stretcher while another medic rushed over to help her.

"You know, you shouldn't be too hard on him," the lady said.

"He's arrogant, cocky, and an introvert," I huffed angrily, "He's going to wind up in a situation someday where he can't worm his way out. Then he's going to regret going on all his thrill-chases."

"You don't know then," the dark-skinned paramedic shook her head.

"I don't know what?" I asked.

"Sherlock saved your life," she said, glancing over at him.

"What?" I was dumbfounded. _He saved me? _I looked over at him. He was talking to the police chief, making wild hand motions as he explained something. The chief looked utterly confused and Watson just sighed, shaking his head. A lock of his dark brown curls fell onto his face and he pushed it away in irritation.

"That man in the hospital-he was going to stab you, right in the chest." The paramedic said, "Then Sherlock burst in and lunged at him, so his aim was off and he hit your leg instead. The only reason you're still breathing is because of his quick thinking."

"What was he even doing up there?" I asked quietly, suddenly finding new respect for this strange man.

"Nobody really knows," she shrugged, "But you should be grateful."

I stared at Sherlock thoughtfully. He saved my life. I felt that I should be grateful; but still, he was cocky and annoying and stuck up. Him saving me didn't change that; but maybe there was more to him than met the eye. Shaking off my thoughts, I turned to the paramedics as I was lifted off the ground.

"Who was the man who was trying to kill me?" I asked.

"Unfortunately, nobody connected to the missing children. We're not really sure what he was doing in there or why he was after you," the other paramedic said. Her blonde hair bobbed up and down as she carried me towards the ambulance.

"Really? No connection with the crime at all?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows with confusion.

"Nope," the blonde girl said. I looked back at Sherlock. His frighteningly bright blue eyes were filled with annoyance as the police chief brushed him off. He stormed off, obviously displeased with whatever him and the chief had been talking about. John followed, looking a bit unsure of what to do with himself.

I glanced at the wound on my leg for the first time and nearly gagged. There was blood all over my calf, and the incision was deep. The paramedic quickly noticed me and offered a quick bit of encouragement.

"Don't worry, it isn't that bad," she said cheerfully, "The blood makes it looks ten times worse."

"That really didn't make me feel any better," I grimaced. As I tried to calm myself down, I noticed a small piece of stock paper poking out of the pocket of my blazer. Glancing to make sure the paramedics weren't watching, I slipped it out and carefully unfolded it.

_**I MAY NEED YOU AS A WITNESS ON THIS CASE – CONTACT ME A.S.A.P**_

_**DON'T LISTEN TO THE POLICE – THEY'RE IDIOTS. THAT MAN WHO STABBED YOU HAD EVERYTHING TO DO WITH THE MISSING CHILDREN.**_

_**03069-990161**_

_**221B BAKER STREET**_

_**SHERLOCK HOLMES**_

I smiled to myself., folding the paper back up and sticking it into my blazer pocket. _So, Sherlock Holmes wants my help on a case? _

_This should be interesting._


	4. Chapter IV

**I do not own Sherlock Holmes.**

"You IDIOT!"

I cringed at Ginger's harsh tone. Her face was flushed red with anger as she flung open the door, and I sunk further into the hospital bed, hoping the white sheets would swallow me.

"Oh, uh, hey Ginger," I said, my voice coming out as a squeak.

"You just _**had**_ to go into the hospital, didn't you?" she curled her hands into fists, "You didn't even wait for me to catch up! If I had been with, I could have protected you!"

"Ginger-" I began, but she cut me off.

"You almost got killed!" she screamed, "You're a little-" she curled her hands tighter and bit her lip, obviously holding back several insults and as well as a few dirty words.

"Ginger, I'm sorry, I just was freaking out because of June, and-" I started to apologize but was cut off again.

"You know what? I don't even care!" she spat furiously, "Here's your handbag." She dumped the black purse on my lap unceremoniously and stormed towards the door. The white hospital walls contrasted her navy blue jeans, black hoodie and ginger hair rather sharply.

"Ginger," I sighed, "Ginger, come'on." She didn't pay any heed to me as she flung open the hospital door violently, every movement radiating rage. She cast me one last glare over her shoulder before she walked out and slammed it shut, causing the entire room to shiver. I sunk back into the pillow, putting my head in my hands. _She'll get over it,_ I told myself, _By tomorrow this entire thing will be put behind us._

I only hoped I was right.

"Megan!"

Suddenly Courtney burst in through the door. Her brown hair was windblown and her breaths were coming out in short gasps.

"What the heck happened to you?!" Courtney said, running up alongside my bed, "I heard that you got stabbed, and I was totally freaking out, and nobody would tell me what was going on! Then I had to get past a bunch of freaking nurses that kept telling me only family was allowed in to see you! How stupid is that?!"

"It's good to see you too Courtney," I snorted in amusement.

"Ok, ok, just tell me how you ended up in the hospital," Courtney said, calming herself down.

"A bunch of the children in the hospital – including June – have been kidnapped," I sighed, "I went in there…I don't know why. I knew that she wasn't there, but I just…I just couldn't believe it, you know? So I got to her room and she wasn't there. Then there was this man…he tried to kill me, but his aim was thrown off when Sherlock lunged at him and he ended up stabbing my leg instead."

"God," Courtney closed her eyes and exhaled, putting her hands behind her head, "You almost died. And Sherlock Holmes was there?"

"Yes…" I said, fiddling with the slip of stock paper Sherlock had given me, "And, um..."

"What?" Courtney said, raising an eyebrow, "Please don't tell me this has anything to do with him."

"Actually, it does," I said, casting my eyes downwards,

"You agreed to help him on this case, didn't you?" Courtney groaned, "That man is crazy. You shouldn't even talk to him, much less agree to help him!"

"He saved my life!" I snapped at her, "And besides, I haven't agreed. Yet."

"Don't you dare Megan," Courtney said, her eyes growing cold, "You don't know anything about that man. He's dangerous."

"He's also my only chance at getting my daughter back," I pointed out, "Don't you get it Courtney? I have to trust him."

"Please Megan, helping that psychopath is a death sentence," Courtney pleaded with me. Her green eyes flickered with desperation as she stared at me.

"I'm sorry Courtney, but he's my only chance at saving June," I whispered, "You won't change my mind."

Courtney bit her lip and turned around, pacing over to the wall and staring at the ground for a moment. "Crud," she muttered, kicking the wall. Taking in a deep breath, she turned back around and looked at me. "Fine. But I'm not letting you go with that psycho by yourself," she huffed, glaring at nothing in particular, "If you're going to throw yourself into danger, I'm going with you."

"Seriously?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Course I'm serious you idiot," she said, bumping my arm playfully, "Someone needs to protect you."

"Thanks," I smiled, "That means a lot to me."

"Say, where's Ginger?" Courtney asked. I looked away from her and exhaled sharply. "Uh oh," Courtney frowned, "You got into a fight, didn't you?"

"More like she yelled at me and stormed out of the room," I grimaced, "She's mad at me for going into the hospital by myself."

"You know she's just terrified that you could have gotten killed, right?" Courtney said, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows.

"I know, but I still don't know if she'll talk to me for a while," I sighed, curling up my legs and hugging them close to my chest. My leg screamed with pain but I ignored it. I could feel tears coming on and I pushed them away. No. I wasn't going to cry. It was a petty thing to cry about after all.

"Don't worry, Ginger won't stay mad at you for long. When are you getting out of the hospital anyways?" Courtney asked.

"They said I should be out of here by tomorrow morning," I said, playing with my hair absentmindedly.

"And I'm guessing you'll want to head straight for Sherlock's after that?" Courtney rolled her eyes.

"Yes," I frowned, "June means the world to me. I can't lose her so soon after…" I trailed off, not wanting to say the words out loud. It had only been a month since he had died. Every time I remembered him it was like a knife had embedded itself in my chest. Maybe that was why I had buried myself in work. Maybe I was trying to keep my mind off of him, just so that the pain wouldn't come.

_And maybe that's why June didn't trust me. So soon after her father had died, perhaps she thought it had been my fault._

The thought practically tore my heart out, but I had to admit it was true. June had always been a child quick to blame and hard to convince. Maybe she had come to the conclusion that if I had just tried harder, her father would still be alive. And now she was trapped somewhere with fourteen other disabled children and a psychopath doing who knows what to them.

"I'll pick you up then, and we're both going over to Sherlock's flat first thing tomorrow," Courtney said, her eyes softening a bit, "Look, I'm really sorry about Kody…I know that it's still a really hard time, and now with June being kidnapped, you need support more than ever. I'm always here if you need me."

"Of course you are Courtney," I laughed through tears, "You're always there, whether I like it or not."

"It's one of my many charming qualities," Courtney smiled broadly, "Although I don't know how you put up with me sometimes."

"Easy," I replied, "Your good qualities always rule over the bad ones. The same goes for Ginger. I hope we'll make up and be friends again soon."

"Well, I think you need some rest," Courtney said, standing up taller, "I'll be here at 7 a.m sharp, alright? You can go ahead and tell your detective buddy we'll be at his flat around 7:30." I frowned. He was most certainly not my 'detective buddy' but I figured saying that would only give Courtney more reason to believe he was, so I kept my mouth shut. As Courtney waved goodbye and began to step out the door, she suddenly paused.

"Just…whatever you do Megan, remember this," she said in a dead serious tone, "Sherlock Holmes may have saved your life once…

But don't count on him to do it again."


	5. Chapter V

**I do not own Sherlock Holmes.**

The rest of the day passed by rather uneventfully. The nurses would come in and fiddle with the thermometer or bring me a glass of water, and then I would be left by myself again. For a while the empty room was somewhat comforting after the chaos I had just been in, but after a good hour I began to grow lonely. The emptiness became maddening, and I longed for someone to talk to. However, none of the nurses could keep me company for long, although one of them continually slipped me sweets. She was by far the best nurse I had encountered. Finally night came and I fell into a dreamless sleep until the next morning.

"Wake up ."

I blinked open my eyes. Light flooded into the room through an open window and made the white walls of the room nearly glow. A doctor was standing next to my bed, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. His face was set in a frown as he scribbled something down.

"Excuse me?" I said, letting out a yawn.

" , you're all set to go," the man said in a serious tone, "Just remember to keep those bandages on your leg for another week or the wound will start bleeding again."

"Oh, um, yup, sure," I said, blinking the sleep out of my eyes. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the hospital bed. I was shocked to find myself still dressed in the pencil skirt, blazer and tie I had been wearing yesterday.

_I can't go out in public like this!_

"I'll just call up my friend..." I trailed off as the doctor paid no attention to me and walked out of the room. So, he was just going to leave me here. Oh well, I could take care of myself. I grabbed my purse off of the floor and fished out my smartphone. Clicking a few buttons and swiftly unlocking it, I went into my contacts tab and found Courtney, then smashed down the "call" button. The phone started to ring and and I tapped my foot on the floor impatiently.

"Come'on Courtney, get your lazy butt out of bed," I muttered to myself. At the last ring, there was a click and Courtney's voice came through.

"Megan?" she said, her voice heavy with sleep.

"Hey, Courtney. I need you to come pick me up right now. I need to make a pit stop at my house and take a shower. I'm a disaster," I explained.

"Yeah yeah, sure, be there in a minute," Courtney yawned.

"And please don't brew up an entire breakfast for yourself before you come over. We can eat at my place," I sighed, "Got it?"

"Ok, I get it," Courtney said in irritation, "Just don't expect me to be over there in two minutes flat." The line went dead and I frowned before sticking the phone back in my purse. Courtney was never much of a morning person. I pulled on my black high heels rather grudgingly and left the hospital room, hoping I didn't look too horrible.

_What am I thinking? I'm in a hospital. Nobody will care if I don't look pretty._

I still found myself fixing up my hair and smoothing out my skirt as I walked down the hallway, mostly out of habit. Reaching an elevator, I pushed the down button and waited for the doors to slide open. One minute, then two minutes passed.

"Where is the freaking elevator?" I muttered, feeling frustrated. I was just about to give up when there was a high pitched ring and the doors slid open. The elevator was empty and I slipped inside, pushing the "lobby" button. The doors shut, then the elevator started to downwards with a jolt. I pulled out the pepper spray in my purse and chucked it at the ground.

"Of course when I need it I don't have it!" I shouted angrily, "Stupid pepper spray-" I paused as the doors opened and a man looked at me questioningly.

_Now I really look crazy._

Sheepishly, I picked up the bottle and shoved it back into my purse, looking away as the man came into the elevator and stood beside me. The doors shut and silence filled the air. I found myself wishing I was more social, because the silence was eerily apparent.

"So, you're Megan Moore?" the man asked me, finally breaking the quiet.

"Yes," I said, "How do you know?" I turned to look at him. He was a middle aged man with light blue eyes and a thinning hairline. What hair he did have was a deep brown, and there were several frown lines on his face, suggesting he hadn't had a very happy life. He wore a black suit, red tie, and carried a small black umbrella. _Strange,_ I thought to myself, _I didn't think it was raining outside._

"You have become a topic of great interest in the media," the man said, raising one eyebrow, "Half of London knows who you are by now."

"Really?" I laughed, "I'm not a very interesting person. I guess London doesn't have anything better to talk about."

"I wouldn't say that," he said, spinning his umbrella, "Sherlock Holmes seems to have taken interest in you, so you must not be as dull as you make yourself out to be."

"Well, I- wait," I paused, looking at the man, "How do you know about that?"

"I have connections," the man said, a smile tugging at his lips, "I know about nearly everything of interest that happens in London."

Suddenly the elevator doors slid open and the man quickly departed. "Have a good day, Ms. Moore," he said, watching me until the doors slid closed again. I stared at where he had disappeared.

"How odd," I muttered to myself. The elevator jolted to a halt and the doors opened again. I walked out, still contemplating the strange encounter. The woman at the desk looked up at me and smiled before she buried herself back into her work. I wandered over to the doors of the hospital and stepped outside, a blast of cool air hitting me. The city was just waking up. People were bustling out to their cars, heading off to work, and children were boarding buses. A bird sang loudly above me and the breeze ran through my hair.

"Hey! Megan!"

Courtney ran over and gave me a quick hug before she dropped a brush in my hand. "Here, you can get a head start on your hair," she said, flashing a smile and walking back over to her red sedan. Today she was wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a polka dot shirt with billowy sleeves. I followed, crawling into the passenger side of the front and throwing my purse underneath the seat. Courtney climbed into the drivers seat, sticking the keys into the ignition and buckling her seatbelt. The car started up with a purr, and I flipped down the mirror. My hair was a disaster zone. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I began to yank out tangles with the brush.

"Oh, have I told you yet?" Courtney asked as we sped down the road.

"Told me what?" I asked casting her a glance.

"My cousins are going to be visiting from Japan," Courtney said, making a sharp turn, "Their names are Mayu and Koemi. Don't worry, you'll love them."

"Is now really a good time?" I asked doubtfully.

Courtney scoffed. "Are you kidding? These girls are great with people," she said confidently, "They might even be able to help find June."

"If you say so," I said, still feeling doubtful.

Before long we had arrived at my apartment. Quickly I went straight into the shower. After making sure I had thoroughly cleaned myself, I changed into jeans and a green sweater. By the time I came downstairs, Courtney had already made waffles for both of us.

"Thanks," I said as I dug into the mess of syrup and butter.

"No prob," Courtney said, her mouth still full of waffles.

As I shoveled the food into my mouth, Courtney flipped on the television. A news reporter appeared on the screen, forcing a smile for the camera.

"Welcome to BBN, British Broadcasting News. I'm Carl Murray with this morning's news," the man blared over the speaker system.

"Come'on Courtney, let's get going," I said, still chewing the last of my waffles and dumping my plate into the sink, "Sherlock will be waiting."

"Seriously? I haven't seen the morning news yet!" Courtney whined.

"Oh come'on, there's nothing interesting on the news-" I started to roll my eyes, but suddenly the television caught my attention.

"Still no news on the detective, Sherlock Holmes, who's been missing since late last night. Police are searching all over London for the man, but have been so far unsuccessful," Carl said, still keeping his fake smile plastered on.

"Missing?!" I gaped at the television in shock.

"Come'on, let's move!" Courtney said, grabbing my arm and practically dragging me out the door, "That stupid idiot probably got himself into some ridiculously dangerous situation."

Before I could even protest, Courtney had already shoved me into the car and sped off towards inner London. I clutched onto the seat, hyperventilating. Sherlock couldn't be dead-he was the only way to get June back. If he were dead then I would never see my daughter again.

"He's probably fine," I said tensely, "He's probably got everything under control."

"Stop lying to yourself Megan," Courtney rolled her eyes.

"He can't be dead!" I screamed, "Then I'll never find June!"

"Calm down Megan! Right now let's just head for 221B Baker Street and see if there's any clue as to where he's gone," Courtney said firmly. I nodded numbly, not having a better plan.

Courtney suddenly slammed on the brakes and turned wildly into the parking space. There were several police cars parked around the sidewalk, the blue and red lights flashing crazily. Courtney flew out of the car and I followed clumsily as she marched up to a police chief.

"Let us in," Courtney demanded, glaring at him.

"I'm sorry, but only police are allowed in the building at the moment," he sighed, acting as if he had been asked this question several times. Courtney frowned and looked around, then her eyes lit up as they rested on one of the officers. He had curly blonde hair and was somewhat buff. She marched over to him.

"Hey, Donovan, help me out here," she hissed to him.

"Courtney!" the officer lit up and wrapped her in a hug, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yes, I know, but I really need to get into this flat right now," Courtney said, her voice softening a bit as she gently pushed Donovan away, "It's urgent."

Donovan smiled crookedly and walked up to the officer. "It's alright," he said, flashing Courtney a smile, "I know this girl. Let her in."

"Donovan, we can't just let anyone-" The chief said in frustration, but I quickly stepped forwards.

"I'm Megan Moore. Sherlock asked me to meet him here today," I said, glancing over at Courtney, "Besides, Donovan can escort us. We might be able to help."

"Yeah, come'on Lestrade, loosen up a bit," Donovan joked.

"Fine. But you've only got five minutes," Lestrade frowned, "No more."

"Thanks!" Courtney smiled, "You're the best!" Lestrade stepped aside and we trooped inside, the police sirens becoming muffled as we shut the door behind us.

"So, you've finally gotten a boyfriend?" I whispered to Courtney, trying to contain a smile.

"No! We're just good friends," Courtney said defensively, "At least for now."

Our conversation was cut off as Donovan suddenly paused. "Sssh!" he hissed between his teeth, and we immediately froze. There was silence for a moment, until suddenly I heard a loud thump and a groan.

"Don't make a sound," Donovan whispered so quietly I could hardly hear him. He began to creep up the stairs and I followed, careful to make my footsteps as silent as I could. Donovan reached the flat door. Courtney and I quickly fell in behind him. He tensed up and there was another thud from inside the door. My heartbeat quickened. Donovan suddenly lunged forwards and flung open the door, pointing his gun forwards. I tensed with apprehension, preparing for the worst. But there were no guns, no murders, no dead bodies.

Just Sherlock crawling in through the living room window.


	6. Chapter VI

**Just a quick note, I've decided that this story takes place between the first and second episodes of Season 3. **

**I do not own Sherlock Holmes.**

"Ah, Megan," Sherlock said, "Right on time." He maneuvered his way through the windowsill, landing rather ungracefully on his stomach. Quickly he picked himself up and brushed off his coat, dirt falling onto the floor.

"You and your friend can go ahead and take a seat," Sherlock said courteously, "As for you officer; your services are no longer needed. I'll be with you two in a moment." Then he turned back to the window, leaned out and yelled, "Hurry up John!"

I gaped, unable to find words. Luckily, Courtney had plenty to say.

"You've been missing all night!" Courtney shouted, "Where the heck have you been? The police have been all over London looking for you!"

"Investigating. Undercover work," Sherlock said vaguely as he pulled Watson up into the windowsill.

"And why are you crawling in through the window?" Courtney demanded, motioning at him wildly with her hands.

"The police would have made a big fuss about me showing up," Sherlock said, "I didn't want to keep you waiting or waste my time with those idiots."

"Couldn't you have **told** someone where you were going so the police wouldn't freak out?" Courtney sighed.

"Once again, a waste of my time," Sherlock replied.

"You have an answer for everything, don't you?" Courtney said, pivoting her hips and crossing her arms.

"Now you're onto something," Sherlock said, flashing her a smile before John tumbled into the flat. John yelped as he hit the floor.

"Mary's gonna kill me for this," John muttered as he propped himself up on his elbows, "A couple months before our wedding, and I'm off helping you solve a kidnapping case."

"Oh, Mary will get over it," Sherlock said dismissively, "Now come on, we've got clients." John got up onto his feet and shook out his coat, his nose wrinkling in disgust as dirt and grass flew off of it onto the floor.

"Donovan, you should probably leave now," Courtney said quietly as she touched his shoulder, "Just go down there and tell them Sherlock's here and everything is fine." Donovan just nodded dumbly, still in shock, and began to stumble down the stairs. Courtney closed the door after he had left and turned back to look at Sherlock.

"You are the most ridiculous, unpredictable man I have ever met!" Courtney said, shaking her head, "Honestly, you just disappear for an entire night, and then come crawling in through the _window_ and act like everything is normal."

"You get used to it after a while," John said with a snort of amusement.

"Hey, wait for me!" Suddenly a girl with long blonde hair, blue eyes and a blue hat popped up in the window, her eyes alight with laughter. As she crawled inside I noticed a camera strung around her neck and a large bag strapped across her shoulder.

"Who is that?" I asked, frowning.

"No idea. She's been following us all night, but I doubt she's dangerous," Sherlock said dismissively, "Now, back to our case. Megan, did you see anything when that man attacked you-"

"So you're just going to let her come in?" I asked, surprised, "You don't care that you haven't the faintest idea who she is?" The girl smiled and sat down next to me, clutching her camera.

"Of course you know who I am Sherlock!" she said bouncily, "I told you when I first started following you. But then again, you probably didn't care at the time. I'm Kaylee Rose, and I'm a news reporter. I figured you would lead me to some pretty interesting stories."

"Yes yes, just don't go looking through the refrigerator," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes, "And don't bother me when I'm onto something either."

"You won't even know I'm here!" Kaylee said cheerfully. She trotted over to the corner and curled up there, watching us with intelligent and curious eyes.

"No no, get out!" John said in exasperation, "I don't want some strange child following us around and taking pictures-"

"I'm not a child!" Kaylee said, her cheerful face quickly dropping into an angry one, "I'm 21!"

"Just leave her John. I don't think she'll leave even if you throw her out the window," Sherlock said, "I figured that out a few minutes after she started following us." I shook my head in disbelief.

"Are we done here then? Because I'd really like to actually get something accomplished here," Sherlock said, clapping his hands together.

"Fine," I sighed, "So, the night the man attacked me?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, "Did you see anything odd when you were in there?" I thought back to the hospital, trying to recall any strange events.

"Well, there was a note," I said, "Or did you already find that?"

"No," Sherlock said eagerly, leaning forwards, "What did it say?"

"To whomever it concerns, if you ever want to see your children again, you will not search for me," I recited the contents of the note. I had memorized it by heart already.

"Hmm," Sherlock leaned back into his chair, crossing his legs and putting his hands up to his lips, "Anything else?"

"Well…the entire room was destroyed," I said, "They didn't just come in and take the children. They must have spent some time ruining the room before they left."

"They either wanted to scare us, scare the children, or…" Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "They were looking for something."

"But what would they want in June's room?" Courtney interrupted.

"That's the question though, isn't it?" Sherlock said. He suddenly turned to look at Courtney, "I'm glad you're here, Courtney Day. You _would_ know all about this, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Courtney growled, a fierce look in her eyes. For a moment they both just stared intensely at each other, and I glanced from Courtney to Sherlock. What did Sherlock mean, _Courtney would know all about this?_ Before I could ask they had ripped their gazes away from each other and Sherlock had turned back to me.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Well…" I furrowed my eyebrows in thought. I felt like there was something odd that I had missed, something obvious. Suddenly it came to me. "There were no police officers there," I said, blinking my eyes, "The criminal had broken into several rooms on that floor, but there were no officers looking for clues."

"Bingo!" Sherlock said, his bright blue eyes lighting up. He stood up quickly, "Come'on John, we've got work to do." John was just starting to stand up when suddenly a sing-song voice came from the corner of the room.

"Excuse me, but I think I can help you," Kaylee chirped, "I know what that man was looking for in the hospital room." Sherlock suddenly snapped his gaze down to the blonde girl.

"What?" he questioned, holding out a hand and stopping Watson from walking out.

Kaylee smirked, pleased she had the detective's attention, "Well, think about it. All the children who were kidnapped were under the age of twelve. And all the children were from St. Mary's Hospital," she said, "All the rooms in the hospital that contain children under twelve at St. Mary's contain something that the other one's don't." Sherlock was now paying full attention to Kaylee. He narrowed his eyes and suddenly broke into a smile.

"The giant teddy bears."


	7. Chapter VII

**I do not own Sherlock.**

My gaze flitted between Kaylee and Sherlock. _Giant teddy bears?_ I was thoroughly confused, but remained silent.

"Of course," Sherlock muttered, staring at the wall for a moment before returning his gaze to Kaylee, "You. You may be useful. Come'on." Kaylee's eyes were bright with excitement as she bounced to her feet, her blonde hair flying into her face.

"Really?" she squeaked.

"Don't say anything unless it's useful information though, understood?" Sherlock said, his eyes flashing for a moment with doubt, "I can't have you distracting me."

"Are you serious Sherlock?" John grunted irritably, obviously displeased with the strange new girl that was going to tag along. Kaylee was nearly bouncing as she stood next to John, her mouth split open in a toothy grin as she clutched her camera with both hands.

"Quite John," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Let's move, because the game is-"

"Excuse me, but am I the only one who has no idea what is going on here?" Courtney said rather loudly. She crossed her arms and pivoted her hips, looking at Sherlock with contempt in her eyes.

"I would expect you'd be clever enough to figure it out, ," Sherlock retorted, his voice laced with meaning, "After all, you were-"

"Shut up!" Courtney's tone became dangerous as she took a step towards Sherlock, "Not. A. Word. You know perfectly well that I never meant to get caught up in that." Sherlock raised his hands and took a step back towards the door.

"Would someone please just explain to me why we're all so excited about giant stuffed animals?" I sighed, my gaze flitting across the many faces in the room. John was looking a bit clueless, as if he himself wasn't sure what they were doing, and Kaylee sent Sherlock a fleeting glance. Sherlock looked at me for a moment, calculating if it would be worth his time to explain everything to me. Eventually he must have decided I was worth his time.

"The hospital floor was empty," Sherlock said, "Which means that there are several police officers involved in the kidnapping. They most likely volunteered to check the third floor, but obviously, they _didn't _go to the third floor, allowing the kidnapper more time to finish up his nasty work. Then there's the teddy bears. There are obviously several hospital employees involved as well, all of which must work with the younger children. They probably slipped something into the teddy bears when the children were asleep. Something that would help the criminal."

"Why would they need the teddy bears to hide it?" I asked, still feeling extremely stupid in Sherlock's presence.

"It must be big and hard to conceal. Something that would stick out as unusual in the room," Sherlock said, "Now, we need to go find records of all the hospital employees that work with the children, and we'll also need to ask the police chief which officers were supposedly checking the third floor. Once we have them, the rest of the case will simply unfold itself."

I shook my head. It couldn't be that simple. There had to be more to this than arresting a few men and getting answers out of them, or Sherlock wouldn't have taken the case. I knew that he only took the most dangerous and difficult cases although he was offered thousands. He must have been hiding something. There must be some catch to it, some loophole in his supposedly easy plan.

"You two can come with us or return home," Sherlock said as he strutted out the door, "I don't care either way." Kaylee followed him and John, her eyes shining as she contained excited squeals and giggles.

"That arrogant little-" Courtney bit down on her lip, "How dare he even bring that up..."

"What was that anyways?" I said, turning to Courtney, "Did something bad happen to you that involved him?"

"No," Courtney spat, glaring at where Sherlock had left, "Just...just an old occupation I used to have. I was young and reckless, and well, let's just say things didn't end up well for me."

"What were you, an criminal?" I said with a laugh, "As if!" Courtney let out an obviously forced laugh, her eyes still twinkling with anger.

"Come'on, let's go," I said, grabbing Courtney's wrist and dragging her out the door.

"Go where?" Courtney questioned.

"Do you really have to ask?" I snorted, "We're following Sherlock of course." Courtney heaved out a sigh, looking somewhat resentful as I pulled her down the stairs.

"Fine. But I can't guarantee that Sherlock is coming back home with all his limbs," Courtney grumbled. I laughed, but it came out nervous and somewhat strained when I realized that I honestly couldn't tell if Courtney was serious or not. What was she hiding from me? I wished she would tell me, but from the look on her face I decided it was best not to ask.

I heard an old woman humming from a nearby room as we left the flat and climbed into Courtney's car. Sherlock glanced back at us with a knowing smirk as he and John hailed down a cab, the blonde girl still looking like she was about to burst with happiness. I buckled my seatbelt and the beginnings of a smile tugged at my lips.

"Looks like we've got a mystery to solve Courtney."

. . . . .

_**Meanwhile...**_

A small girl trembled, her light blue eyes wide with fear. She had messy light brown hair that fell down to her shoulders and a tan complexion. Her white hospital gown was stained brown with dirt, as well as her skin. Another young girl was huddled up next to her. The other girl's hair was blonde and her eyes green. The girl with light brown hair shivered and curled herself into a ball. Where one leg should have been there was only air. The girl next to her had a damaged eye. It was mostly healed, but it looked horribly ugly and she tried her best to cover it up with her long bangs.

"Where do you suppose we are?" the girl with light brown hair squeaked, her voice barley audible. There was the moaning of other children echoing the dark, damp room and hardly any light was able to leak in through the curtained windows. The floor was concrete as well as the walls, and the entire room had an empty feeling to it.

"I hope we're still in London," the blonde girl whimpered, "Or Mummy will never find me."

"You really think our mother's will be able to find us here?" the brown-haired girl scoffed, "You saw that man. He would do anything to keep us hidden."

"Mummy always knows what to do," the blonde girl said, tears slipping down her face, "Mummy will fix everything."

"If I know one thing, it's that your mother can't always make everything better," the brown-haired girl said boldly, "My father died, and my mother couldn't do anything!"

"My mummy is di-different. She loves me!" the blonde girl wailed.

"Mother couldn't help father, so I can't expect her to help me!" The brown-haired girl screamed over the blonde girl's wailing, "Our mother's can't help us here! We're all going to die!" There were several screams and wails as the other children began to stir.

"My mom won't let me die!" a young boy screeched, "She's coming, you'll see!"

"The girl is right! The dark man is going to slaughter us all!" a red-head girl shouted. The dark room, nearly silent only moments ago, erupted in screeching and chaos. Suddenly there was a slam, and a dark figure had materialized by the door.

"SILENCE!" the man bellowed, his voice deep and menacing. Immediately the entire room was hushed, and they all stared wide-eyed at the man.

"I hear one more word out of any of you, and there will be no supper on your plates tonight!" the man growled, his voice gravelly and rough, "Now, shut up and behave yourselves." He left the room with another slam of the door. The room remained tense and silent for another few seconds, before a boy stood up. He had tousled black hair and sharp green eyes.

"You heard him," the boy said quietly, "All of you just get some rest. Maybe you'll have good dreams." There were a few more mutters and some scuffling as the children all settled down on the concrete, huddling together to stay warm. The brown haired girl laid on the edge of the sleeping circle, her eyes still wide open. She gently ran her hand around the stub that used to be her leg and tears slid down her face.

"No Mummy to help you now..."


End file.
